


Happier

by LindsayIsTheCraic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, happier by ed sheeran au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayIsTheCraic/pseuds/LindsayIsTheCraic
Summary: Saw you walk inside a barHe said something to make you laughI saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as oursYeah, you look happier, you do





	Happier

**Author's Note:**

> highly recommended you listen to Happier by Ed Sheeran as you read this! Enjoy!

It’s just another Friday night.

It’s late. Marcus couldn’t tell you the time. The street lights illuminate the street. They blur as they’re too bright for Marcus. The rain showers down lightly. Marcus isn’t wearing a jacket but the cold is blocked out by the alcohol he’s consumed. Sirens go off in the distance. Marcus only registers he’s walking down the street somewhere in the city.

He’s been here before, he knows that. It’s a common scene, a common feeling. The burn he feels as the liquor slides down his throat is familiar. The heartbreak he feels is familiar. It’s all he’s known for the past year.

And tonight is just another Friday night staying in his comfort zone of heartache.

He walks down the street, sighting the familiar blur of colored lights. He doesn’t know what the sign says but he knows he always ends up here on Fridays.

He makes a move to go towards the colored lights, towards the familiar sulking place, but something out of the ordinary rounds the corner. He stops in his tracks as he tries to make sure the alcohol isn’t playing with his mind. Slowly, as reality settles, the beer bottle in his grasp falls, shattering on the sidewalk.

It’s her.

She’s _here_.

And she’s not alone. She’s with _him_.

The emotions Marcus has been trying to ignore for the past year come rushing back. He’s heartbroken as they come closer. Then he’s angry as their faces come into clearer view. Then he’s back to his self-pity as he watches her laugh.

He can’t hear it but he can hear it at the same time. It’s both a curse and a blessing. One of his favorite things about her, about Abby, turned into his least favorite. More so because he knows her laugh right then is louder, more genuine, and more real than any laugh she had around him.

Triggering the curse, her laugh pulls him back in time.

_The kitchen was a mess. Flour was everywhere, egg yolk dripped off the counter, cake batter splattered across the oven, and the couple was sprawled across the floor. The final layer of flour from the battle settled as the two stared lovingly at each other._

_“Admit defeat, general?”_

_Abby’s voice is light, but the glint in her eyes is dark. She’s ready for round two and round fifty-seven. Marcus caught the slight movement of her arm behind her back but doesn’t call her out. Instead, being just as sneaky, he moves his hand behind his back, looking for ammo._

_“That depends,” he finally says, locking eyes with his fiancée, “are you ready to admit defeat?”_

_The smirk he knows too well appears on her face, his own replicating hers in response. He notices her hand stopped moving the moment his hand finds a pile of flour. Gathering as much as he can, he raises an eyebrow at her, waiting for an answer._

_“Never,” she said._

_“Me either,” he replied._

_It’s silent for a moment, each watching the other, waiting for either to make the first move. Suddenly, they both move, attempting to catch the other off guard. Abby is quicker as she flings frosting at him, hitting him in the neck. Marcus countered her attack, reaching over and rubbing the flour into her hair._

_Her scream echoed through the kitchen as his laugh rang out. Soon, both die down as Abby is shielding herself from a second attack. As the flour floated down, Abby peaked out from behind her arms._

_Marcus was wiping the frosting off his neck and looked to her as he noticed her watching. She flinched back a bit, causing his smirk from before the attack to return. He leaned over, using his free hand to wrench her arms away from her face._

_“Marcus!” She yelled, but he could hear the laughter she was failing to keep out of it. “Don’t you dare!”_

_“Wouldn’t I?” He teased, reaching closer to her face with the frosting covered fingers._

_Her scream got louder the closer he got. His smirk grew into a successful grin as he smeared the frosting across her cheek. He let her go when he finished, falling back while laughing. She sat up as well, crossing her arms as she pouted. He noticed and laughed harder when they made eye contact._

_She continued pouting as his laughter died down. He rolled his eyes at her, pulling her over to him. He bopped her on the nose, adding a dot of frosting to her look. She glared up at him as he chuckled. He used his frosting-free hand to play with her hair, telling her, “Don’t be too grumpy, or this flour may turn your hair white early.”_

_She smacked his arm away, failing to bite away a smile. She tried to hide it but he saw it, his grin turning back into a smirk. “Oh,” he told her, “I’ll get you to smile.”_

_Before she could protect herself, his hands grabbed her sides and he began tickling her. Immediately, a grin broke out on her face. Soon, her laughter rang out loud and clear. It filled his ears, causing a smile to break out on his face._

_The way she laughed his name out, begging him to stop, made his heart flutter._

_He asked, his tickles slowing down a tad, “Admit defeat?”_

_She laughed a bit more as they made eye contact. He saw the defiant glint still alive in them as she bit her lip from laughing again. Taking that for an answer, he tickled her faster, earning a squeal from her which turned into a laugh._

_Her laugh was his favorite thing about her. Nothing could ever make it anything but a blessing to his ears._

Oh, how he had been wrong.

Wrenching his mind from the past, he reminded himself that laugh wasn’t for him anymore. It hadn’t been for a year.

It was for _him_ now.

Marcus could very well see that as the two got closer. His vision became clearer the closer they came. Jake had his arm wrapped around her waist, Abby was wearing his jacket. She was looking up to him the way she used to look at Marcus—full of adoration and love.

It made Marcus sick.

He went to drink from his bottle when he realized it was no longer in his hand. He looked down to see the shattered glass on the sidewalk. He almost laughed. It resembled the way he felt—broken and useless.

This time he heard her laugh. As if it was his siren song, his eyes were drawn to the couple. He watched as Jake leaned close to her ear, whispering. She laughed again, shattering Marcus’ already shambled heart.

The smile on her face and the smile on his face—both were wider and more genuine than any Marcus and Abby used to share. She looked happier, she did.

A year ago Marcus’ friends told him he would too one day. _Bullshit._

There was only person in the world who could make him feel whole again and she was in another man’s arms. She was laughing at another man’s jokes. She was smiling the way she used to at Marcus at another man.

And she looked happier than she did with Marcus.

Marcus told himself it didn’t hurt. _Bullshit_. Marcus told himself that no one could love her the way he did. _Bullshit_. Marcus told himself he was happier without her. _Bullshit._

_Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, **bullshit!**_

It _did_ hurt. He _knew_ Jake was loving her more than he ever could. He _was_ happier when with her.

His hand twitched at the thoughts poisoning his mind. They ruined his thoughts on the daily for a year. He never could escape them. The smallest thing would remind him of _her_ , of their time together, and he would find himself in a pit of despair.

All the while she was out being happier without him.

His eyes lingered on the empty space they left behind. They had entered the building with the familiar blurred colored lights.

Anger replaced the self-pity quickly. This was _his_ place. Technically, he didn’t own the building but _still_. This was the place he went to every Friday night. He would get wasted, wallow in self-pity, and stumble down the road home. It was his place of recovery.

They had no right being there.

Marching up to the building, he threw the door open. Immediately, he was swarmed by the hot air of the bar, the smell of cigars from those smoking in the alley, and the loud bump of music. He took it all in, embracing the fact this place had become his second home the past year.

He made his way over to the bar, sitting in the same seat he did every Friday. Sinclair, the bartender, offered Marcus a smile. “The usual?” He asked.

Marcus nodded, telling him, “Extra strong.”

Sinclair set down the glass he was cleaning, dumping ice into it. He raised an eyebrow at Marcus, grabbing the alcohol mixer. He asked, “Rough night?”

Automatically, his eyes found the couple at the bar, seated at the end on the opposite side. He looked back to Sinclair, replying, “Rough year.”

Sinclair offered him a smile of comfort as he mixed Marcus’ drink. Pouring it into the glass, he set it in front of him. As Marcus grabbed it, Sinclair patted his shoulder, telling him, “First round is on me.”

Marcus smiled his thanks, though it didn’t stay intact long, and tipped his glass to his good friend. He immediately took it all in, wincing and relishing in the burn the alcohol gave him as it traveled down his throat.

The burn built its way up to his eyes, stinging as tears filled them. Grabbing the mixer, Marcus refilled his glass to the brim. Gripping the glass tightly, his eyes wandered over to the couple again. He watched as they clanked their shot glasses together before taking them.

Tearing his eyes away as Abby coughed a little at the hard liquor, both laughing as a result, he downed his second drink of the night. Refilling his glass again, he knew he would need much more than usual to make it through the night.

+

She was everywhere.

She was in the music playing, her favorite song wrapping around him like a vice. She was in the random conversation the guy to his left was having with his buddy, Marcus remembering how Abby loved camping. She was in the sugar packets resting on the bar, Marcus remembering how she would eat them as she waited for her food.

She was _everywhere_ and he couldn’t escape her.

He couldn’t recall what number drink he was on. All he knew was that it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t erase her from his mind. If anything, the alcohol was causing her to appear in his mind more often than he was sober.

And when he was sober, it was nonstop.

Downing another shot, wincing as the burn increased, he grabbed the mixer to refill his glass. When he tipped it over his empty glass, only a drop escaped and landed in the glass. Empty. _Just like him_.

He called Sinclair over, pushing the empty mixer into his hands. He told him, words slurring, “Another.”

Sinclair reluctantly grabbed it from him, asking, “Are you sure? This will be your third one.”

Marcus didn’t have time for Sinclair to act like his mom. He needed Abby to be erased from his mind and Sinclair was delaying the cure. He snapped back, “I know how much alcohol I can handle, Sinclair.”

Frowning, Sinclair shook his head. The two sat in silence as Sinclair mixed him another batch of shots. After making it, Sinclair slid it in front of him. Wiping his hands on his towel, he informed Marcus, “You’re cut off after this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marcus mumbled as he refilled his glass. He set the mixer down and picked up his glass, watching the couple over the rim of his glass.

His vision had long blurred on the edge many drinks ago. The music was jumbled together, adding to the chaos in his brain. His movements were messy as he downed the glass’ contents, slamming it to the bar. He dared another glance at the two, cursing when the sight didn’t change.

He smacked at his temples, willing the alcohol to erase the image—the image of the two being happy. Erase the image of them intertwining fingers. Erase the image of them sharing a short, but loving kiss. Erase the image of them exchanging love through simple gazes.

Erase it all.

He refilled his glass again, smacking the mixer down in frustration after finishing.

He felt the shift.

Dragging his eyes from his glass, they slowly looked over to where the couple was sitting. This time, instead of making lovey-dovey eyes at Jake, Abby was staring over at him. For the first time in a year, the two made eye contact.

All the chaos in his mind vanished as she became the sole focus of it. He took in the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, he took in how her eyes lit in the low bar light, and he took in how good she looked in her tank top.

Her face was another story.

It wasn’t lit up with laughter like it had been a minute ago. There was no smile of happiness on her lips. Hell, even her eyes were void of the love that had been present all night.

All because of him.

The question rang clear in his mind and on his face: _You’re happier, aren’t you?_

He knew the answer to the question. He didn’t need her answer to know. After what he did, there was no one who hurt her like he did, he wasn’t surprised she was. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, he chose not to.

He smiled at her, lopsided. He lifted his glass to her and downed it again. He winced as the alcohol scorched his throat and wired his brain, triggering another memory.

_This was the fourth argument on the same topic in the past month. Abby’s persistence was one thing he adored about his wife, but it could also be a pain in his ass._

_“Abby,” he tried to reason with her, “we’ve tried nonstop for the past few months. Why don’t we take a break and just rethink-”_

_“We **have** been doing that, Marcus,” Abby shot back. “Just sitting and thinking about solutions won’t solve our issue.”_

_“And repeating the same processes that **haven’t** been working will?” He shot back._

_She glared at him from her spot on the couch. She retorted, “At least we’ll be actively doing something.”_

_He sighed, burying his face in his hands. It was the same points made over and over again. Neither bent from their sight on subject and each argument ended the same. No progress was ever made._

_As the two sat in silence, Marcus noticed Abby shifting in her seat. He looked to her, asking, “What is it?”_

_She didn’t answer right away, staring at her hands in her lap. Sighing, she finally looked to him, telling him, “I took the test.”_

_He was struck with silence in astonishment. He had fought her for weeks to get it done. She refused, not believing it would be of any use. He asked, “When?”_

_She didn’t respond quickly again, battling an inner feud. She finally said, “Two weeks ago.”_

_“And?”_

_She was silent again, Marcus’ heart racing as he waited for the news. He didn’t want positive results but he didn’t want negative either. Both would set them back._

_She smiled a bit, telling him, “They were negative.”_

_He grinned, half relieved and half defeated. One possible roadblock was defeated. Even though they were back at square one, he was relieved she didn’t have to carry that burden on her shoulders._

_He took ahold of her hand and teased her, “See? I told you seeing the doctor would help.”_

_She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. She turned to look through her purse with her free hand, slowly turning around with a card in her hand. Handing it to him, she told him, “And now it’s your turn.”_

_He took the card from her, his good mood dropping in an instant. He looked down to the card, reading:_

__**Fertility Clinic  
Thelonious Jaha, PhD  
Fertility Specialist**

_He sat back, registering the date and time his wife had set up an appointment up for him. His worst fear was creeping up on him, and this Jaha guy would either crush that fear or confirm it._

_“I…I don’t know, Abby,” Marcus tried to hide his fear from his voice. “Why don’t we try a few more times now that we know everything’s fine?”_

_“Oh,” she teased, “ **now** you want to keep trying?”_

_He cracked a small smile at her as she laughed. She came to rest her chin on his shoulder, looking down at the card with him. “Plus,” she added, “we don’t know **everything’s** fine.”_

_He tried his best to ignore the jab at his heart the sentence made. His worst fear, not being able to give Abby what she wanted and deserved, kept poking at the back of his mind. There was nothing more he wanted than to give her the child and family she wanted so badly._

_What kind of husband could he be if he couldn’t fulfill that one dream?_

_“Fine,” he said after a battle of turmoil, “I’ll go.”_

_She smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. She squeezed his hand that was still holding hers. She whispered, “Hope is everything.”_

_He smiled and rested his head against hers as his thumb stroked her hand. “No matter what,” he told her, “we’re in this together.”_

Smacking the glass back down on the bar, his head started spinning again. That memory was worse than the all the good ones that haunted his dreams at night and thoughts during the day. It was the start of an end.

Sparing a glance back to where the couple was seated, he noticed only Jake remained. Abby was gone. His eyes swept over the bar, immediately finding her in the crowd. Her eyes were still trained on him.

Worse, she was making her way over to him.

He looked away from her and back to his empty glass. He would need more alcohol to get through whatever conversation she was bringing his way. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than _that_ conversation.

_“Well?”_

_Marcus had been dreading this conversation for a week._

_Abby knew how long it took to get results back. It wasn’t fair in a sense. Marcus couldn’t hide it away and make it disappear into thin air._

_They sat at the kitchen table, just having finished dinner. This was hardly table talk. He set his napkin down, the card in his pocket feeling like dead weight. He fiddled with the ends of the napkin for a bit, thinking back to the appointment._

_Marcus left that office feeling like a different man, one he wasn’t proud of._

_Looking back to his wife, the words caught in his throat. How could he deliver the news? Before he could stop himself, the worlds slipped from his mouth. He lied, “I didn’t go.”_

_It was silent, painfully silent. Marcus shut his eyes, waiting for the argument that was unavoidable._

_“Why?” Was all she asked._

_He felt her cold stare. She had went out of her comfort zone and took the test. Her results were a relief for her. Marcus’ weren’t. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t admit he couldn’t give her the family she deserved._

_He stuck to lying, no matter how much it hurt, “I didn’t think it was needed. I’m fine, Abby.”_

_“Pretty hypocritical, don’t you think?” Abby replied, voice stern, but he could hear the strain of emotion in it. It cracked his already breaking heart._

_“It’s different,” he tried to reason with her, another lie slipping through his lips._

_“How?” She asked, anger seeping in her words. “I get checked, you get checked. If you’re so certain everything’s fine, then why wouldn’t you go? It wouldn’t hurt to check.”_

_“You wouldn’t understand.” It was the first truth he told so far. She just wouldn’t._

_“I wouldn’t understand?” Her voice made Marcus hate himself more. It had cracked the tiniest bit. She told him, “You know what I understand? I understand we’re having trouble conceiving a child. You know what I don’t understand? The fact you’re not willing to take a simple goddamn test that will help us figure out how to start that family.”_

_“Because I know it’s pointless.” Another lie._

_“Pointless?” Abby sounded wounded and Marcus looked up to the see tears in her eyes. His heart cracked more. “You think doing something easy as this, something that may help start our family, is pointless?”_

_Easy? Abby knew it was far from easy. She was on the same unknown battlefield he was on not even a month ago. Hell, she protested going for months._

_“I think it’s a sign,” he finally blurted out._

_Silence fell between them. If Marcus had time, he could find a solution, and he would never have to admit to Abby he was the reason the family she wanted wasn’t happening. All he needed was time._

_“Sign for what?” Fear echoed inside her words._

_Marcus sighed, saying, “That maybe this isn’t the right time to start a family.”_

_Silence again. Marcus’ heart was beating hard, waiting for her response. When he wasn’t given one, he tried to explain, “We’ve been going nonstop for months, Abby. Why don’t we slow down and just wait? Starting our family in a year or two or how many years down the road won’t make a difference compared to starting now. In the end, we’ll still have our family.”_

_Abby was silent as she watched Marcus, tears pooling in her eyes. He reached across the table and took ahold of her hand. He offered her a small smile, squeezing her hand. She sighed, it coming out shaky, and she nodded._

_Marcus’ smile grew. Now, all he needed was enough time._

Time was never on Marcus’ side.

He needed more time to get more wasted. He wasn’t far gone yet. He wished he could fast forward through the interaction waiting to happen. He didn’t want to add another bad memory on the shelf, knowing he was the reason behind it.

Abby reached him at that point, standing in front of where he sat. He watched her, not sure what to say. He knew anything he would say would be used against him. He settled for a simple greeting, saying, “Abby.”

“Kane.”

No burn from tequila, scotch, whiskey, or bourbon could match the scorn of Abby using his name last name. She hadn’t called him Marcus in over a year.

He needed more time, time to drown out the disappointment in her voice with alcohol. He always needed more time.

_“What is this?”_

_Marcus looked up from the newspaper to see a familiar manila envelope. His heart plummeted as he recognized what it was. He looked up to see Abby glaring down to him, betrayal in the tears in her eyes._

_“Abby, I-”_

_“ **Don’t** ,” she interrupted, “even try to justify this. You **lied** to me. For **months**.”_

_He didn’t respond, looking back to the envelope. It contained his results from his fertility test he took months ago when Abby had set up an appointment for him. He guessed Abby had read the contents._

_He admitted, “I couldn’t tell you.”_

_“Tell me what?” The betrayal cracked in her voice. “You couldn’t tell me that you’re having fertility issues?”_

_Marcus ran a hand through his hair, trying to defend himself, “It’s more complicated than that.”_

_“Is it?” She sounded unconvinced._

_He fell silent as she watched the envelope. There was no use hiding the truth anymore. Looking up to Abby, he forced out, “I didn’t want to admit I was the reason we couldn’t start a family. I couldn’t bear being the man that couldn’t give the love of his life the family she wants. I couldn’t be the guy to deliver that news.”_

_She fell silent as his voice cracked. The reality of their situation settled for both as the silence stretched. Keeping the heartbreak out of her voice, she asked, “And you thought the solution to fixing that was not telling me? Hell, **lying** to me about it?”_

_“I’ve been trying to find solutions!” Marcus defended himself, voice raising the slightest bit. He was getting closer to finding one. All he needed was more time._

_“Alone! You left me in the dark!” Abby accused. Marcus saw the tears threatening to spill over as she asked, “What happened to ‘no matter what, we’re in this together’?”_

_He was struck with silence, not being able to refute it. He had lied to protect her, to protect himself. But was it the right thing to do?_

_The tears freely fell as she shoved the envelope towards him, asking, “If you can’t trust me with this, how do I know you’ll trust me with our family?”_

Everything after that went downhill. The smile she had on her wedding day never reappeared. The laughter he heard on that day with the cake batter battle never was reproduced. The feelings between the two slowly dimmed and burned out.

It all came crashing down on the night Marcus found divorce papers on his work desk. After that night, he knew it was too late, even with the solution in his pocket.

And here they were a year later.

The rift between the two was clearly still present. They stared each other down for a few more moments of silence, until Marcus asked, “What do you want?”

Abby narrowed her eyes at him before sliding into the seat next to him. He groaned, reaching for his mixer, refilling his glass. Setting it down, he offered her the drink. She shook her head while saying, “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” He seemed confused. Did she not just down a shot earlier? He asked, his personality slipping through, “The doctor can’t handle her liquor anymore?”

Her lip twitched, threatening to smile. He gripped his glass tighter, slapping himself mentally for wishing for it rise. _Something_ , just give him something to show you don’t completely hate him.

“No,” was all she said.

No explanation? It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her, trying to figure her out. She kept the same static face, not leaking a hint. That was until he caught a glint in the bar light he didn’t see before.

Looking down, he saw a new ring on the finger where he had given her one years ago. All his negative emotions over the year came crashing down tenfold, suffocating him.

He knew it would happen, but not so quickly. Sure, it’s been a year, but it felt like yesterday every day to him. He hadn’t even thought of moving on yet.

“Congrats,” he spit out, “I’ll drink to that,” downing his drink. The burn didn’t help this time. He licked his lips, pouring the last of his mixer. He added, “That doesn’t tell me why you can’t drink to it.”

“There’s something else,” she told him. He was confused at her words as he lifted the last drink to his lips. “Well,” she added, “more like someone else.”

Marcus spit out the drink had just taken. He coughed, the alcohol burning his throat. _What?_

He stared at her wide-eyed, the news still settling. He pointed at her and then where Jake sat. He said, “But you took a shot.”

“It was sprite,” she explained. Sprite? Who the hell came to the bar to take shots of Sprite?

He was still dumbfounded as he stared at her. He couldn’t believe his ears. Thinking it couldn’t happen again, his whole world began to crumble beneath him. He asked, breathless, “You’re pregnant?”

She smiled a bit and he felt like shit knowing he wasn’t the one behind it. She said, just as breathless but for a different reason, “Yes.”

The confirmation destroyed whatever was left over from his world crumbling around him. It was gone. Everything he had in life, gone.

His eyes drifted to where Jake was making his way over to them. Of course, it was Jake’s child.

Marcus had nothing against Jake, except the fact that he was dating his ex-wife. Jake was a good man, he had a stable job, made Abby happy, and apparently could give Abby the one thing Marcus couldn’t. Nothing against him at all.

Marcus’ eyes settled on the ring on her finger again and Abby followed his eyes. She explained, “We found out this morning. We decided to make it official. We came here to celebrate.” The words struck a knife through his nonexistent heart. How many times could one rip it apart until there was nothing left to tear at?

He nodded, not knowing what to say. He felt betrayal even though he knew it was misplaced. He felt angry knowing he couldn’t make Abby that happy. He felt happy, knowing she finally had what she wanted most.

_But without him._

Noticing he didn’t say anything, Abby frowned a bit. She said, “I told you because I figured you’d be happy for me…I felt it was something you should know.”

He immediately looked up to meet her gaze. She was going to tell him? Even after they hadn’t talked in a year? Did she know he was here? Did she know he was always here?

He felt all those emotions of anger and regret turn into sorrow as he told her, “Abby, of course I’m happy for you. I’m ecstatic. It’s just…”

He didn’t have to say it, she knew. She confirmed it by just smiling at him. He smiled slightly back at her, appreciating he didn’t have to say it.

Jake reached them then and he offered Marcus a big smile. The two made eye contact, the emotions in Marcus turning dark once again. His eyes drifted down towards Abby’s hip, where Jake wrapped his hand around. His eyes skimmed over her stomach, where their child was growing.

 _Their_ child. Not his. _Their_ family. Not his.

Marcus didn’t know what made him snap. Was it the anger at himself he had built up for a year? Was it the jealousy he felt towards Jake? Was it the regret he felt for lying all that time ago? Or maybe it was all the alcohol.

He decided it was a mixture of all four when the first punch landed across Jake’s cheek.

Abby jumped back in surprise as Jake stumbled back. Tears sprung from Marcus’ eyes as the emotions he bottled up for a year came pouring out. The first punch back from Jake, landing on Marcus’ jaw, shattered him wide open.

Marcus fell against the bar, moving his head in time to avoid another punch. He felt the blood seeping through his beard and into his mouth from the first punch. His world was already swirling. He had no business picking a fight he knew he couldn’t win.

He didn’t care though. This man had stolen the one thing he had loved more than anything in the world: Abby. Jake took her and gave her everything she wanted in one year while Marcus couldn’t give it to her for years and never did.

The fight was a lost cause. At the end of it, Marcus still wouldn’t be married to Abby. Marcus wouldn’t be the father of her child. Marcus wouldn’t be a part of that family. Marcus would be alone, left to wallow in his self-pity while Abby continued to be happier than she ever was with him.

Jake landed another punch across Marcus’ cheek, causing blood to explode from his mouth. The pain searing through his jaw was nothing compared to his reality. He built his own Hell, he knew that, and he willfully suffered in it.

As Marcus tried to land another punch on Jake, wanting to exert his frustration and sense of defeat, cops busted into the bar. One wrenched Jake off Marcus and held him back, Marcus reaching out to pull him back. Another cop stepped in between the two, turning and shoving Marcus against the bar effectively.

He tried to escape at first but soon is fight deflated. There was no point. What was he fighting for? His freedom? To where? To come back here next Friday? He certainly wasn’t going home to a family.

Looking to his right, he saw Abby comforting Jake as he calmed down. Marcus spotted the blood across Jake’s cheek and shirt. Marcus knew it was his blood. He had lost that fight, Jake had won. Just like how Marcus had lost Abby to him.

As if sensing his eyes, Abby looked over to him. They made eye contact as Marcus felt himself get handcuffed. Emotions of all kinds passed between the two. The most prominent were fear and disbelief, but there was a hidden one, just for him.

There was an understanding in her eyes. She knew.

+

County jail was what Marcus thought it would be.

He sat in his own cell, just like the ones seen on TV. It was gray, dull, and cold. He had a single bed and toilet. He took refuge on the bed, sitting while starring at his hands.

In his hands rested two things: a photograph and a card with a phone number.

He never left home without those two items. They reminded him of the mistake he made; they reminded him that he was a failure.

His attention was focused solely on the two objects, gaze falling more on the picture. It was ripped in certain places, worn on the edges, and wrinkled all over. The color was fading and there was a coffee stain on the lower left corner.

The picture was of him and Abby. It had taken place after he proposed to her. He had hired a professional photographer to take pictures of the moment before, during, and after. This particular picture was of them posing in front of the waterfall, the ring displayed proudly as they smiled at each other, foreheads touching.

He was happy, Abby was happy. They were happy.

Past tense being the key. Now, Abby was still happy, but he wasn’t.

His eyes drifted over to card with a phone number on it. He remembered the weight it created in his pocket when he found the divorce papers. It was supposed to their solution, it was supposed to mend their relationship. It was supposed to make them happy again.

That number was the solution to Marcus’ problem. He had found the solution, but it was too late. They were no longer that couple they were months ago when he first got the test. They weren’t happy.

Marcus never called the number. He didn’t have a reason anymore. He didn’t have Abby. He didn’t have her to give her the family she wanted. She had Jake now.

Just thinking of _him_ made Marcus angry again. It was ridiculous, his anger being aimed at the wrong person. He knew Abby would move on, he didn’t want to accept it. He knew Abby would get the family she wanted, he didn’t want to accept the fact it wasn’t with him. He knew Abby would be happy again, he didn’t want to accept the fact it was possible without him.

But it was. Abby was happier.

Marcus found the two items in his hands blurring together. Tears gathered in his eyes, admitting it truly to himself for the first time. _Abby was happier._

Blood from the cut on his lip dripped down and onto the card. Reality of the scene he caused at the bar came crashing down on him. Choking back a sob, tears overflowed in his eyes, freely falling down his cheeks.

_Abby was happier._

The tears fell off his cheek and onto the picture of the two. They all fell onto Abby, forming a pool, blurring her image. She disappeared under the tears, just like she had from his life. Just like any trace of hope he had of amending their broken relationship.

Whispering it to no one and one person in particular at the same time, Marcus choked out the words he realized he should’ve said a long time ago.

“I'm so sorry. Forgive me.”


End file.
